


Revelations

by bzarcher



Series: Rising Swan (The Odette AU) [9]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Addiction, Anger, Boxing, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Fighting, Gen, Odette!AU, Past Violence, Post-Talon!Widowmaker, Reconciliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-22
Updated: 2016-10-22
Packaged: 2018-08-24 01:34:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8351122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bzarcher/pseuds/bzarcher
Summary: Sometimes you fight the one you love. 
Sometimes you learn something about yourself along the way.





	

**Author's Note:**

> If you have not read [Reclaimation](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8176612) or some of the other Odette AU fics, you will want to read them for several references in the fic to make sense to you.

 

The sound of a door slamming was followed by the staccato clacks of angry footsteps as Odette stalked down the hallway that lead to the Watchpoint’s main conference room. She was far too frustrated to care about where she was going, she just needed to be _anywhere else._

From behind her she could hear the door open again and Morrison’s snarling bark. “We’re not _DONE_ here!”

“Perhaps you are not,” Odette snapped without turning around, “but I assure you that **_I. AM_**.”

Her legs carried her quickly down the corridor, passing several others who had been drawn out into the hallway when she heard Lena’s voice and her rapid footsteps as she chased down the hall.

“– fuck _off,_ Jack! Just let me talk to her, OK?”

The furnace that had slowly started to cool off inside of her was suddenly stoked back to life. Odette whirled on one foot, pointing a finger squarely at her lover’s chest. “I do not need _you_ to constantly defend me, Lena _!_ _Je suis une adulte! Je peux le faire pour moi-même!_ ”

“Oi!” Lena’s eyes flashed with heat of their own, crossing her arms defensively over her accelerator by reflex. “Sorry I’m trying to _back you up_! Would you _like_ me to just shut my gob and let him keep trying to talk you into doing something you don’t want?”

“What I _want_ ,” Odette spat as her pale face turned increasingly red, “is for you to stop acting as if I am still a damned _doll_ who cannot stand up for herself! I **_WANT_** Morrison to stop demanding I perform in your combat training. I  want everyone to stop acting like I will decide I want to become a sniper again if I am killing in the name of Overwatch instead of Talon!! **_WIDOWMAKER EST MORTE_! **_Vous l'avez tuée_ , congratulations! I will _keep _ her dead. I do not need you constantly rushing to argue with everyone else, and not letting me speak a word in my own defense!”

“I **want ** them to stop pressuring you and _listen_ to you –”

**“ _THEN LET ME STAND UP FOR MYSELF!_ ”**

“Excuse me for caring about _the love of my fucking life!_ ” Lena blinked backwards down the hallway, tossing her head. “You want me to shut up and let you talk? Fine! I’m gone! _Have fun_.”

Part of Odette was embarrassed at having this fight in the middle of a damned hallway with more than a few heads poking gingerly around doorways or corners. She didn’t want their pity, their fear, or their concern. The rest of her just wanted to keep screaming until the whole fucking island heard her.

* * *

Odette tried going to the garden to calm down, to expend some of her anger on turning the earth and tearing apart weeds, but the activity didn’t provide any relief. Though Bastion was happy to sit and listen as she vented her frustrations, the omnic couldn’t provide a great deal of conversation.

Knowing that Lena would likely go to the hangar bay or off to Winston’s lab for similar reasons, Odette finally decided to head to the gym to work her frustrations out on the treadmill or weight machines.

After changing into appropriate clothes (Lena not being in their rooms wasn’t unusual, but it still felt _wrong_ , somehow), she made her way down to the gym.

As the doors slid open, Odette was surprised to see Fareeha there, working the heavy bag with economical, powerful blows, shifting back and forth on her feet as if avoiding an opponent’s counterstrikes.

The younger Amari had been slow to accept Odette’s presence within Overwatch, even if the former Widowmaker was not really an active member of the organization. Ana’s decision to establish a friendship with her former enemy seemed to have surprised Fareeha a great deal, but it had not helped to significantly close the gap between the two women.

For a long moment, Odette considered turning around and leaving, but after a moment she decided that she was tired of walking away from her problems today. Without acknowledging the other woman’s presence, she made her way to the set of treadmills along the opposite wall, performing some basic stretches before stepping on to a machine and warming up with a slow pace, setting the machine to gradually ease into a simulated course of rising and falling hills as she put on speed, allowing her body to warm to the exercise and forcing her to focus on the shifting elevations and grade rather than the turmoil in her mind.

She’d cleared three quarters of a mile, her muscles slowly loosening up after being wound tight with tension and anger, when she realized that the Egyptian woman had walked over to stand by the treadmill, a towel draped over her neck.

“Odette.” The former Security Chief’s voice was cool, just on the clipped side of professional.

“Fareeha.” Odette tried to keep her pace up, her eyes focused on a point in space ahead of her. _Go away._ If there was anyone she wanted to talk to even _less_ than Lena or Morrison right now…

The stern, guarded expression Fareeha normally wore softened a bit as she spoke again. “I’m surprised you aren’t in the practice studio.” The room had been intended for yoga and softer workouts, but some thoughtful builder had installed mirrors and a bar in it as well, so Odette often used it as she attempted to refine the skills that Amélie had gifted to her.

She shook her head curtly in response, her short ponytail whipping against her shoulder. “ _Non_. I’m far too angry to dance well today.”

“I heard you had a bit of an argument earlier,” Fareeha admitted with a tinge of sympathy, “so did anyone on that floor, I think.”

“ _Merveilleux,_ ” Odette growled in frustration before trying to give the other woman a chance, “I am sorry, Fareeha. I am sure you mean well, but I am not in a good place to try… mending our fence.”

Fareeha nodded with a bit of chagrin on her face. “I can see that now. I apologize – I don’t want to make things worse for you. But I might be able to suggest a way to help.”

“…you want to _help_ me?” Odette felt a bit bad about how skeptical her words had come out, but at the same time, it wasn’t as if she’d ever expected to hear Fareeha offer anything, unless it was to volunteer to kick her out of the Watchpoint.

To her credit, Fareeha actually looked embarrassed, one hand coming up to gently rub the back of her head. “I know, I’m not… we don’t… really get along. But I heard about some of what you told Lena. About how you felt that no one was letting you stand for your own decisions. Growing up around Overwatch – Jack, Gabriel, and my mother especially – I remember what that felt like. So I think I have a decent idea of where you’re at right now.”

Odette let herself slow down, punching the ‘cool down’ key on the control panel for the treadmill so it wouldn’t try to drive her backwards. “I must admit I hadn’t considered that you might share some… perspective on what has happened. I apologize.” Stepping to the floor, she looked up slightly to make eye contact with the taller woman. “What would you suggest?”

Fareeha’s lips quirked upwards. “I think you need to hit something. Have you ever tried boxing?”

Odette couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at that. “Nothing beyond the close quarters defense programming and assassination techniques I… inherited. Do you really think it would do some good?”

“Oh, yes.” Fareeha motioned for her to follow, walking back to where the heavy bag and speed bag had been hung from the ceiling. “You get to put some of that anger and frustration into an actual target. It’s cathartic, trust me.” Tossing over a pair of gloves, she took another set from the rack and laced them up before stepping to stand in front of the bag. “Come over where you can see how I’m setting myself up.”

Odette moved to look at the other woman’s profile as she squared up. Feet shoulder width apart, forward toes pointed at the bag, back foot angled out slightly, her knees bent and hips relaxed. Not so different from the stance she’d once used for sniping from a standing position, actually, except Fareeha was keeping her weight on the ball of her foot, heel slightly raised.

“You get most of your power from your legs and hips,” she explained, slowly telegraphing a few punches so Odette could see how she moved, driving herself up and into the bag, “and keep your arms relaxed. Front arm is your shield, and should stay low – it covers your body, while the rear stays up by your cheek to protect you from a jab or hook from that side. Try it.”

Odette faced the lighter bag, then set herself, taking some cues to adjust her feet or arms slightly as Fareeha helped her find the best form.

“How’s that feel?”

“Good,” Odette admitted, “I think I could hold this position all day, if I had to.”

“Perfect. You want to be able to move easily in and out of it, but this is what you want to come back to after each exchange. Want to try a basic punch?”

“ _Oui._ ”

“OK, watch me again.” Setting herself back up, Fareeha rolled her shoulders slightly, then focused on the bag. “The jab is your most versatile tool. Everyone sees the movies and thinks of big crosses or hooks, but a good jab wins fights. It’s fast, you can aim it with more precision, and you can use it to batter down your opponent’s guard and then exploit the openings you create. It’s also the base of almost every counterpunch you might use, and – the best part – it’s dead simple.”

Fareeha turned her head enough to smile, then began to explain. “Just keep your arm relaxed as you snap it up, elbow going straight, and rotate your fist to provide the power, tightening just as you impact.” As she had before, Fareeha demonstrated as she explained, first slowly, then working up to proper speed, her arm whipping out so quickly that Odette almost expected a cracking sound as the air parted before the blow.

“OK,” Fareeha stepped back and shifted over so she could better observe her student’s form, “try throwing a couple – don’t worry about the speed. Just the motion.”

It took Odette a few tries to get the combination of motions down and combine them into one smooth sequence, but once she’d gotten it down she began to strike over and over, building her speed up rapidly as she punished the bag.

Fareeha had a point about the therapeutic value of being able to hit something.

“I’m impressed,” Fareeha noted as she moved over to stabilize the bag under Odette’s assault, “you picked that up quickly, and your speed and recovery are excellent.”

“The speed is a legacy of Talon,” Odette admitted, “they modified most of my twitch musculature when they were…” Her face closed up, and her voice went flat as she finished the thought. “It was a modification to improve aim and reaction time.” Slowing her jabs and settling back into the base stance, she took a deep breath, pushing away the unpleasant reminders of how her body had been someone else’s plaything. “As for the rest, it seems I have a good teacher.”

Fareeha smiled, giving a slight nod of thanks for both the compliment and being let off the hook for digging up memories the other woman had made clear she preferred to bury. “I started learning to box when I was a little girl, and kept at it as I grew up. It’s one of my favorite ways to let off steam, honestly. As for the rest, well, I taught some self-defense classes when I was between being discharged from the army and joining Helix to pay the rent, so I have some practice in walking people through the basics.”

“Who taught you to box originally? Your mother?”

“No…” Fareeha looked away. “My mother taught me Taekwando. Boxing I learned from Gabriel.”

Now it was Odette’s turn to feel embarrassed for digging up the past. “Oh.” Apologizing seemed like it would just make the situation worse, so instead she decided to try another tack. “What’s the difference between a jab and a regular punch, then?”

“Well,” Fareeha walked back to where she’d been demonstrating, “the term we use for that is a ‘straight’ right or left…”

They spent the better part of two hours working on footwork, forms and the basic punch combinations. By the time Fareeha had suggested they take a break and hit the showers, Odette felt sweaty and sore, but her anger had finally passed. She let the hot water loosen and relax her muscles, then finished rinsing the shampoo and sweat from her hair before grabbing a towel and heading to the locker room to dress again, thankful she’d brought a change of clothes along.

Fareeha had already finished her shower and was mostly dressed, shifting over on the bench to let Odette get to her things. “Good work today. If you want to keep this up, I bet we could have you ready to do some live sparring pretty quickly.”

“I suppose it helps that I have a framework to build on,” Odette admitted, “and that does sound interesting. Does anyone else box?”

“Jesse, Aleksandra, Reinhardt, and Jack, occasionally. I think Aleks has been teaching Mei and Hana a few things, too. If I set something up for you, I’d probably put you with the two of them for a few rounds – it’s good practice for both partners, and you each can learn a bit about reading the opponent and movement that way.”

Odette raised an eyebrow. “I expected Angela to be part of your list.”

The Egyptian smiled, her cheeks going ruddy with a blush. “Angela likes to watch me, occasionally, but that’s about it. She’s a runner more than anything else – unless you ever have a burning desire to play badminton.”

“…I do not expect that to ever happen, no.” Something in Odette’s deadpan delivery made Fareeha laugh, and after a moment she joined in, surprised at how easily they were actually _talking_ to each other.

“If you don’t mind, can I ask you about something from… before?”

Odette slipped into her clean clothes before she answered, her voice a bit guarded. “I suppose it depends on what you would like to ask.”

“I wondered if Gabriel – Reaper – ever talked about his past with you? About who he was before?”

“Ah.” Odette considered how to answer that. “Talon did not encourage us to interact outside of our missions. He would occasionally offer… critique… but rarely spoke of more casual things.” She paused, thinking over her life as Widowmaker. “He knew who Amélie had been, and I think Talon feared he might provoke something from her memories. But on the rare occasions he spoke of Overwatch around me, it was about his anger at Morrison and your mother, little else. I am sorry.”

“He did know you,” Fareeha replied absently, then stopped herself, “knew Amélie, I mean. Sorry. I try to remember. He was at the wedding. My mother and I were, too.” She smiled nostalgically. “Mother was one of Gérard’s groomsmen, so they decided she should wear a tux – and I insisted that I should, too. I ended up getting to be the ring bearer because one of Amélie’s nieces got sick the day before the ceremony.”

“I… think I can remember your mother dressing in the tuxedo, after you mentioned it.” Odette grimaced. “It is difficult. So many times I listen to the stories that I am told about Amélie, and I _want_ to be able to tell her old friends that some part of her is still here, that I still can remember what was important to them… but there are times I think a part of my mind simply imagines it to make us both feel better.”

“It’s not as unique a problem as you might think,” Fareeha admitted, “I used to get so many people coming up to talk to me about old war stories with my mother that I’d start to just accept whatever they said.”

Odette gave a thoughtful ‘ah’ to that, then sighed. “I suppose the past can be difficult for all of us. But I am sorry I could not give you any better information about Gabriel. I can tell how close he was to so many of you.”

“It’s all right. I appreciate that you tried.” Fareeha went quiet for a moment, then looked up. “You know… I actually admire what you’ve done quite a bit.”

Odette frowned, her brows knitting. “I don’t understand.”

“Taking control of your life. Standing your ground. Walking away from what Talon made you.” Fareeha shook her head, her hair beads lightly clicking as they struck each other. “I spent my entire life wanting to stand beside my mother – to become a solider like she did. I made it there… and I honestly don’t know what to do next. What I would do if I had to start over. You made the decision to break out of the mold Talon put you in. Since then, you’ve worked hard to chase what you wanted, and not what everyone else expected of you.” Closing her eyes, she leaned back against the locker. “I honestly don’t know if I could have done it, in your place.”

“I don’t know if I would go that far, Fareeha.” Odette considered things for a moment, then lightly put her hand over the other woman’s. “From everything I’ve seen, you’ve been an incredibly brave woman your entire life. If you had to find another path… I have no doubt you’d manage. Especially if you had Angela beside you.”

Fareeha’s smile was soft and a bit wistful. “I would hope so. There are days I think I could face almost anything, as long as I knew she was there for me. I suppose for you and Lena it’s the same way.”

“Lena did something even more important than being there for me,” Odette admitted, “she believed that I was someone whom she could be there _for_ in the first place. It meant… it _still_ means…” A lump formed in her throat, tears filling her eyes. “ _Désoleé._ I… excuse me.” Dashing the tears from her eyes, it took a long moment for Odette to speak again. “I love her very much. But I don’t know what I do next. I’m not angry at her anymore, and I want to go back to her, but…”

“Is it the first time you two have had a really major argument?”

“ _Oui._ ”

“That’s always rough. Angela and I didn’t talk for a week after our first big blow-up.”

“Truly?”

“Oh, yes.” Fareeha laughed ruefully. “It was mostly my fault, I’m afraid. Doing a lot of the same things that you and Lena were fighting about, really. Putting myself in harm’s way for her, and not paying attention to what Angela really trying to do. That was on the battlefield, not at home, but still. We avoided each other for quite a while before we finally apologized and tried to work on it.”

Odette frowned thoughtfully. “I don’t want to avoid her for a week, I’m certain of that.”

Fareeha grinned. “You and Lena have slightly less stubborn lovers than Angela and I do.”

* * *

Odette made it back to their bedroom without encountering Lena – or anyone else. She’d put her sweaty clothes into the hamper and was just considering asking Athena where she might be able to find her partner when she heard the sound of the door to their quarters opening.

Even though she was no longer angry, Odette suddenly realized that she was afraid. Cautiously, she went to their bedroom door, catching Lena just before she could turn around and leave.

“Hey.” It was obvious Lena had been crying as well, her voice hushed and hoarse. “I was going to go look and see if you were in the kitchen.”

“I was thinking I would look for you in the hangar,” Odette confessed, “Lena… can we sit down?”

Lena nodded, unbuckling her accelerator and shrugging it off before the two women met on opposite ends of their couch, facing each other.

“So,” Odette breathed, “who goes first?”

Lena bit her lip, her expression thoughtful, then opened her hands. “I was the one who insisted on the last word earlier. I think that you’ve got the right to go first.”

Odette nodded, drawing one knee up against her chest as she considered what to say. “I’m sorry I yelled at you, Lena. I’m sorry for trying to hurt you.” Before Lena could speak, she held up a hand. “I am not sorry about standing up to Morrison, or _why_ I became angry – but I took that anger out on you rather than trying to fix the real problem, and I did it in a way I knew would cause you pain, and that was wrong.”

Lena was quiet for almost a full minute before she responded. “I need to explain part of why I’ve been acting like the way I have. It’s something I didn’t even realize until I talked some things through with _Hanzo_ , of all people.”

Odette raised an eyebrow. “I suppose he would have a unique perspective on having fought so bitterly with a loved one.”

Nodding as she sat up a bit straighter, Lena put a hand on her chest, just above the glowing disc that shone through her shirt. “He said our fight reminded him of some of the ones he and Genji had… before. We talked about that for a bit, and then he asked me where my anger was really coming from, because he could tell it was about more than just what happened today.”

Odette made an encouraging noise, not wanting to interrupt, and Lena took a moment to collect herself before she continued on.

“When I was getting ready to fly the Slipstream, Winston told me there were risks with that first drive test. I brought it up to Jack and the other command staff members, and they decided it was a low enough risk that we should go forward. Winston, much as I love the big guy, let himself get overruled. We all know how that went.”

Lena sighed, looking up at the ceiling before she spoke again. “They wanted to shut Winston’s whole lab down, even after he’d started working on a way to get me back. I spent much too bloody long able to hear but not talk, look but not touch. It came down to the wire – if he’d failed to pull me back when he did, there’s a good chance they’d have forced him to shut the works down.” Lena paused, taking a deep breath, perhaps reminding herself that she was still alive, and not trapped in that _elsewhere_ she had been pulled into. “I’m not sure if Jack or Winston realizes that I know about that.”

Standing, Lena began to pace in a tight circle between the couch and their coffee table. “I ran into a lot of the same when Winston finally got me out of the containment room. Lots of talking, not anyone listening to me about what I wanted. I was good at being the poster girl, but it wasn’t… I wanted to get back into a cockpit _so badly_ , and suddenly it was too much of a risk for me to be allowed to take.”

“I got so angry because I felt like nobody would _fight_ for me. Not against Jack or Gabe or Ana. So when I saw it happening again, I started going _ballistic_ because I felt like I was right back where this all started… but you’re absolutely right, luv. You’re a grown woman who knows how to fight her own battles, and I was taking that away from you instead of backing you up.” Lena collapsed back onto the couch cushion, her head in her hands.

“I was _scared_ , and I got so wrapped up in not letting things happen the same way that they did to me that I could have _lost_ you, and –” Lena’s voice broke, more tears starting to trickle down her cheeks. “I’m sorry. I am _so sorry_.”

“Shh.” Odette reached out, gently stroking Lena’s cheek as she wiped some of her tears away. “I was angry, but I never wanted to leave, _chérie._ That explains much, though, and I appreciate you telling me.” She considered what to say next, then sat back against the couch. “If I am honest… part of why I do not want to participate in the training sessions, or go into the field as a combatant, is that I’m scared, too.”

Lena’s eyebrows rose. “Really?”

Odette nodded. “I’m scared if I go back to being a sniper – go back to killing – that I will enjoy it too much. That I will feel the urge to keep pulling the trigger, and not be strong enough to stop.”

“Angie _broke_ that, though. _You_ were in control the last time – you did what you had to do that night Talon tried to take us, but you _stopped_.”

Odette shook her head. “Angela finished what you started when she removed Talon’s control over me. The conditioning. The programming. But that doesn’t mean I won’t still feel that _rush_ or the _urge_. You have to understand – it was like a drug. Talon _wanted_ killing to be my drug, and they made sure I was addicted to it.”

“At the restaurant, I never actually shot a _person_ , thanks to you. Just put a few holes in the wall and knocked that _salaud_ ’s lights out.” She had to stop for a moment, the memories of that night still a little too tender. “I was _so close_ to killing him, and part of me wanted to _so badly_. Not because of what he had done to me, but because of how I knew it would make me _feel_.”

Odette shivered despite herself, drawing her arms and legs up against her body. “I know what Morrison sees in me. He must be very frustrated that I’m a weapon who will not allow herself to be used. But as much as part of me would love to strike at Talon with the same tools they put into my hands… I fear it would come at too high of a price.”

The couch shifted as Lena scooted over, then gently put her arms around her lover. “You never told me this before.”

“I haven’t been able to. I’ve been afraid of what you would think. That you might decide I was a monster after all…”

Lena gently placed her forehead against Odette’s, her touch spreading warmth along her partner’s slightly cooler body. “What I think is that I love you, Odette. This doesn’t change that, OK?”

Odette nodded, unable to put her thoughts into words, taking comfort from the other woman’s presence. Letting herself focus on the sensations of Lena’s warmth, the soft sound of her breathing, the gentle hum and vibration of the anchor between her breasts, the sweet scent of her, using them to push away the thoughts of battlefields and killing.

“Can I ask you something?” Lena’s voice was barely above a murmur, almost felt more than heard.

Odette turned her head enough to look into the deep amber eyes that had always seen something beautiful in her. “I will try to answer.”

“If we went to talk to Angie later, about this, would you feel comfortable explaining where you’re coming from? I think having her as an ally when you talk to Jack or Winston about this would be good.”

“I can do that, and it is a good idea. I probably should have told her this months ago.” Odette paused, then asked quietly, “If I told Ana, do you think she would think less of me?”

“I can’t imagine that,” Lena assured her gently, “If anything, I think she’d probably listen, give you a hug, and then go punch Jack in the middle of his face. If she hasn’t already.”

Odette couldn’t help but laugh at that image. “You may be right about that. Though, from what Fareeha told me today, I think she would be more likely to kick him in the head, instead.”

Lena sat back with a grin, her eyes beginning to dry. “Oh yeah?”

Odette nodded, slowly unfolding her legs. “I ran into her in the gym. Fareeha showed me a few ways to work off my anger, we talked, and we came to an understanding. I’m not sure we are friends, yet, but I think we may be on our way.”

Lena’s grin softened into an intrigued smile. “I would love to hear more about that.”

“I will tell you. But… may I ask you something, first?”

“Of course,” Lena agreed readily, “anything you like.”

“When we were fighting… you called me the love of your life.” Odette looked Lena in the eye, feeling better in some ways, yet still quite vulnerable in others. “Did you truly mean that?”

Lena’s answer was a kiss, incredibly sweet and gentle after how violently they’d been arguing just a few hours before. “Every day, for as long as I live.”

**Author's Note:**

> Je suis une adulte! Je peux le faire pour moi-même! - I am an Adult! I can speak for myself!
> 
> WIDOWMAKER EST MORTE! Vous l'avez tuée, congratulations! - WIDOWMAKER IS DEAD! You killed her, congratulations!
> 
> Merveilleux - Marvelous.


End file.
